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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25395166">Flower Buds and Forbidden Feelings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Inked_Thoughts/pseuds/Random_Inked_Thoughts'>Random_Inked_Thoughts</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Tags Updated with New Chapters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 01:59:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,171</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25395166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Inked_Thoughts/pseuds/Random_Inked_Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Sanders Sides Hanahaki works, one for each of the sides. All either ambiguous or happy endings. Will add new tags as new chapters come out. </p><p>CH1: Remus (Intrulogical)- Remus sighed, rolling his eyes. When did he become so grossly sentimental? It was just something about the other side. Maybe it was the distinct lack of sentiment that drew him to Logan. He was cold, calculating, and he put up with Remus’ shit better than anyone else, except maybe Janus.</p><p>CH2: Patton (Moxiety)- Patton wasn’t surprised when he found out he was in love with Virgil, he was disappointed. The other boy was so perfect, so porcelain. If Patton looked at him wrong he might break, shattering into a million pieces too many for Patton to hold in his arms. Not that he wouldn’t try.</p><p>CH3: Virgil (Prinxiety)- Roman was so extra that Virgil could barely stand it. Everything about him just reeked of extra. His clothing? Extra. His room? Extra. His choice to belt show tunes at three am on a weeknight? Unbelievably extra. Virgil had had it up to here with the extra. Seriously. He was very close to losing his shit. Stupid Roman with his stupid floppy hair and his stupid princely body and his stupid kissable lips.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Remus (Intrulogical)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi guys! I'm assuming y'all know what you're dealing with by clicking on a hanahaki fic, but if not, this is your last heads up! There is blood in this, and some other grossness (this is Remus after all!). I'm not exactly sure what possessed me to write this, and then keep writing for the other sides too, but here we are and I hope you enjoy it! :D</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Remus thought that flowers were so-so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have anything in particular against them, he just didn’t see the merit in them. He didn’t see why they were such a big deal. People gave flowers to symbolize love, congratulations, excitement. What was the point? They grew, the world oohed at their pretty colors, and then they died. Then, the cycle repeated. Nothing special there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now flowers coating the inside of your throat? Flowers twisting the air from your lungs, the life from your body? Leaves constricting your airway, thorns tearing your insides to shreds in a desperate attempt to remind you that you could feel anything for someone? Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>was cool. He could fuck with that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, it was a lot more fun in principle than in practice. Who'd've thunk it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was blue thistle. Of course it was thistle. He wouldn’t have expected anything else. That didn’t make it hurt any less. As soon as Remus saw the first flash of blue, throat burning with the exertion it had taken him to hack it up, a twisted sort of smile had flashed across his face. He couldn’t help himself. It was just so funny. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was so funny because of course it was thistle. What else should he have expected? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The flowers themselves didn’t hurt half as much as the stems did. They tore his throat raw and red and bloody, and they tasted like sweat and dirt and that same coppery tang that accompanied an open wound if you were to lick it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been happening for years, something that Remus would never admit but he knew was true. Janus had been with him through all of it, eyes clouded with worries his lips would never spill and mouth set and determined, conjuring him a bucket when things got really bad and cleaning up the bloodied and broken flower stems that seemed to coat his floor whenever he came to Remus’ room. He was there whether Remus wanted him to be or not, and that meant more than Remus would ever say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Besides, he didn’t have the heart to clean them up himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ironic, seeing as none of them technically </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> hearts. They were figments of Thomas’ imagination, none of them should have hearts. None of them should experience romantic attraction either, but that theory clearly didn’t pan out or he wouldn’t be where he was now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right now, Remus was bent over himself on his bed, hacking up little blue flowers with prickly stems. Janus sat beside him as per the norm, staring into the open air with his arms crossed. Remus was clutching one of the flowers in his hand, and blood dripped slowly down the back of his wrist. He didn’t care. It was nothing he wasn’t used to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, Janus broke the patchwork silence. “Why won’t you just tell him?” he asked quietly. It was a conversation the two of them had had many times, one that Remus was not particularly inclined to have again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed, wiping some spare blood from the corner of his lips. Broken leaves and stems littered the floor around the two of them, only marginal portions of the broken greenery actually having made it into the bucket that Janus had provided. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Because,</span>
  </em>
  <span> J-anus, it’s not a problem right now.” He couldn’t help his slightly raspy tone, but he covered it up with his usual slightly unhinged grin, only made worse by the blood still caught in his teeth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janus raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, unimpressed. “Not a problem?” he repeated softly, raising one of his hands. In it, he held a fistful of blue thistle, still dripping sluggishly. The scent of copper had filled the air long ago. “It’s not a problem?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Remus shrugged. “Not for him it isn’t, as long as I keep it quiet he has nothing to worry about. Besides,” he continued, tone turning bitter, “I have it on good authority that I’m a nuisance to him and a hindrance to Thomas.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He never actually said that to you.” Janus rolled his eyes. “Stop being a whiny little bitch baby.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Remus stuck his tongue out at him. “I’ll be a whiny little bitch baby if I want to be a whiny little bitch baby.” His retort was slightly marred by the shaky, wet coughing that punctuated the end of his sentence. “It was implied.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He offered to be a sounding board for your... ideas, how is this any different from any of your other concepts?” Janus offered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m not supposed to feel like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Remus said with a frown. He resisted the urge to gesture to himself, to his heart. That would be horribly, awfully cliche. “None of us are, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> not me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I swear, if you start talking about how “undeserving” you are again-” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cut Janus off with a wave of his hand. A blot of blood landed on the other boy’s face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oops.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I’m done feeling sorry for myself, Jan. Besides, it’s not like this’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill me </span>
  </em>
  <span>or anything fun like that.” He grinned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it was true. As facets of Thomas’ personality, they couldn’t actually die. The worst the thistle could do to him was make him wish that he could. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janus’ face hardened. He wiped the blood from his cheekbone with a flick of his gloved finger. “Then I’ll just clean some of this stuff up for you,” he replied, voice silky smooth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Remus winced as his friend stood up, flower buds crunching under his black dress shoes. Despite what they did to his insides, he couldn’t help but cherish them just a little. It was horribly sentimental, but they reminded him of </span>
  <em>
    <span>him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>How could they not? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were small and blue and prickly, just like another side that Remus couldn’t help but think about. Little things set the flowers off; watching him push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the little ‘ahem’ he did before reading something from his flashcards, the way his slender fingers twitched only moments before he tightened his tie. He cherished the flowers because, like it or not, in a sick, twisted way, they were Logan’s eternal gift to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And everyone knows that there are no take backs on gifts. Remus wouldn’t want to be rude, after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janus gathered the flowers quickly, efficiently. His movements were almost mechanical, the result of muscle memory that comes with having repeated an action so many times it becomes second nature. His gloves stained dark red. That was fine, he could always make more gloves later. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Remus couldn’t wipe the flowers from existence, not even if he wanted to. He wasn’t sure exactly why. He’d only tried once, when the coughing fits got especially bad. He’d thought the flowers might kill him that day, figment of Thomas’ imagination or not. The only thing that had stopped them had been the soft knock on his door, accompanied by Logan’s low, concerned voice. That had startled him. He hadn’t thought Logan could be concerned for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, he just groaned and flopped back on his bed, feeling something </span>
  <em>
    <span>squish </span>
  </em>
  <span>underneath him. It was quite possibly the peanut butter and ham sandwich he had made for himself a week ago. The only sound in the room was the light rustling that always accompanied Janus, the swish of his odd half cloak and the slight crunch of half broken stems. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janus stood up again after some time, the flowers in his hand a gruesome sight, one that Remus welcomed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sick, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought, and then, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sick. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hesitated by the door. His voice was soft, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sad</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Just… consider telling him.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Remus rolled his eyes, ignoring the scratchiness in his throat. “Whatever, dork.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was another light </span>
  <em>
    <span>swish </span>
  </em>
  <span>and then Janus was gone, but his door remained open. Remus frowned. The others </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated </span>
  </em>
  <span>it when his door was left open. Whatever, it was their problem now.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t tell him. Logan was better off knowing, after all. Even if he did tell him, Logan wouldn’t want him to begin with, he already knew that. It would be stupid to think any different. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Logan…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Remus sighed, rolling his eyes. When did he become so grossly sentimental? It was just something about the other side. Maybe it was the distinct </span>
  <em>
    <span>lack </span>
  </em>
  <span>of sentiment that drew him to Logan. He was cold, calculating, and he put up with Remus’ shit better than anyone else, except maybe Janus. And Janus was </span>
  <em>
    <span>forced </span>
  </em>
  <span>to put up with Remus’ shit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan was just that kind of person. Maybe it wasn’t Remus’ fault. Maybe he couldn’t help but be attracted to him. Maybe it was simply ingrained in him, like he knew up from down and decapitation from defenestration. Maybe it was fate, destiny, something by design, something that would have happened to him no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. Maybe he was destined to love Logan Sanders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His throat started to close up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So soon again? </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought deliriously, grinning widely in anticipation as prickles began to caress the soft flesh of his throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But I just had an episode. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan’s laugh was heavenly. Not his fake one, the one he put on for show, but his real laugh. Remus had only heard it twice, but it was quite possibly the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Logan’s voice was deep and rich and added with the slight lilt that came with his surprise, it was downright adorable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first one was always the hardest to cough up. It cleared the path, whether or not he wanted it to. Feeling his gag reflex kick in, Remus’ entire chest constricted and he doubled over himself again, black spots filling his vision as the first flower began to protrude from his open mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan’s hands were big. You’d think they all looked exactly the same, but there were little things, tiny things, things that set them apart from Thomas. You had to look for them, but they were there. Logan’s fingers were long and slender, and Remus had made more than one unsavory joke about them being wrapped around various objects but in all honesty, his hands were mesmerizing. Remus could sit in a room all day and just watch Logan drum his fingers on a tabletop if the other boy was so inclined. It was practically hypnotic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinking heavily to clear his vision, Remus grabbed the blue flower unceremoniously and helped pull it the rest of the way out of his mouth, tasting his own blood for the second time that day. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just get it over with. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan hummed while he worked. It wasn’t a tune exactly, it was more a constant rumble, low in his throat. He hummed while he cleaned and he hummed while he read. You wouldn’t know if you weren’t looking for it, but Remus always was. The first time he’d heard it, the creative side had practically fallen out of his chair. He’d ribbed Logan on it until the other boy was pink in the cheeks with denial. It had taken weeks for Logan to hum around him again. He hadn’t commented on it since.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He whimpered as he wrenched it the rest of the way out, hissing out a string of profanities, each worse and more colorfully descriptive than the last. After the first flower was out, the rest were almost comically easy, scraping his abused throat as he choked them up over and over. They were crumpled and broken, dripping with coppery red. Mood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan’s smile was like sunshine. Not an analogy that Remus would be inclined to make in any normal situation, but love makes you stupid. At least, that was his running theory. The point still stood. Logan might deny emotions like they were some sort of shameful secret, but if you caught him in the right moment, sunlight shining through his hair and his eyes crinkled at the corners, his grin was like liquid gold. Remus wanted to drown in it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d just finished hacking up what felt like the final flower of the batch when he gagged on air, chest heaving as he gasped for breath he couldn’t find. His eyes were blurred and teary. Everything just hurt so much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He dropped the flower he was holding numbly, staring at the mess around him with a small frown. Janus had just cleared the last batch up too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a quick inhale from his doorway, so quick he could almost have missed it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Remus’ head snapped up so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Remus?” Logan whispered, voice dripping with horror. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mind was racing. Depending on how long Logan had been standing there, there was very little chance that he would be able to explain this one away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Remus sat on his bed, frozen, eyes comically wide with horror. Broken flowers and blood splots surrounded him, coating his floor like a carpet. If he felt anything like his usual self he might have cracked a joke maybe, made some kind of sexual innuendo. Perhaps a flirty wink and shimmy. But right now he was frozen in time, like a deer in headlights. And everyone knew what happened once a deer was caught in headlights. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Patton (Moxiety)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys!! Thanks for being so sweet about the first chapter, I'm so glad you guys all liked it so much! I figured I'd just drop by to reiterate that these chapters all are separate oneshots, taking place in separate locations, just to prevent any confusion upfront! :)</p>
<p>(I might continue the intrulogical one tho but shhh it's only a possibility)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Patton wasn’t surprised when he found out he was in love with Virgil, he was disappointed. The other boy was so perfect, so porcelain. If Patton looked at him wrong he might break, shattering into a million pieces too many for Patton to hold in his arms. Not that he wouldn’t try. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was disappointed not in Virgil, because how could he ever be disappointed in Virgil? He was disappointed in himself, for even daring to believe for a second that Virgil might want him back. He banished those hopes immediately. Foolish little feelings, to give him hope like that. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil wouldn’t want someone like him because </span>
  <em>
    <span>nobody </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted someone like him. Virgil would want someone strong, like Roman, someone smart, like Logan, someone who could give him everything he deserved and more. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil deserved the world. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t wanted to contaminate the other boy, he hadn’t wanted to. He didn’t want to saddle him with love that Virgil wouldn’t want, make him feel obligated to set his own feelings aside simply for Patton’s wellbeing. He knew Virgil wouldn’t want to love him, but he would anyway if Patton ever told him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wouldn’t chain Virgil to someone he didn’t truly care about, he would never do that to Virgil. It was unfair, in every sense of the word. Unfair to him, unfair to Virgil. No matter which way you sliced the problem, someone always lost. By not telling Virgil, at least the only person that lost was Patton. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He could still remember the first day he’d coughed up a petal. His throat had felt tingly and off all morning, but he’d decided to blame it on the winter weather and the snowball fight Thomas had the day before. At the time, he hadn’t known what else it could be. Logan had arched an eyebrow at him suspiciously, but didn’t comment. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil was pulled into another one of their discussions. Well, to call them discussions was unfair. They were more like arguments. Roman and Logan hadn’t really come to terms with the fact that anxiety had a seat at the table now yet, but Patton had put on his brightest smile for the new kiddo, just to make up for it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had faltered the moment he saw the look on Virgil’s face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was so tired, the bags under his eyes worse than Patton had ever seen them, even worse than they had been in Virgil’s room. He was wearing a deep purple sleeping shirt, and his hair was all over the place, presumably from having been summoned out of the blue. He blinked sleep from his eyes before rubbing them. He was tired. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan was the second to noticing it. “Anxiety?” he asked quietly. “Are you… okay?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil had let out a soft sigh, only half in annoyance. “You guys need to get your shit together,” he managed to get out, his voice still gravelly from sleep and Patton would be lying if he told you he didn’t love the sound of Virgil’s voice when he’d just woken up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that supposed to mean, Emo Reject?” Roman had asked haughtily, letting out a slight huff. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you guys need to figure this out,” Virgil had replied icily. “It’s been two weeks now and I’ve lost more sleep over your stupid squabbles now than I lost over that time Thomas accidentally said orgasm instead of organism.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan replied with equal iciness, “I fail to see how </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>would be the issue here.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“At least we agree on that front!” Roman added on, crossing his arms. “I am not the problem!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no you’re both definitely the problem,” Virgil replied, pursing his lips and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just… you don’t even know you’re the problem and that makes it a million times worse.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hyperbole,” Logan cut in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Virgil glared at him. “You two losers are the reason why I haven’t been able to get any sleep. In fact, Morality’s the only cool one around here. Maybe you should try listening to him every once and awhile.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton had felt his heart swell at those words, as insignificant as they may be. Virgil thought his input was good, Virgil thought his input was </span>
  <em>
    <span>cool. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Virgil told Logan and Roman that they should pay attention to him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He blushed a little bit as everyone turned to look at him, coughing into his arm. “Excuse me!” he said cheerfully, not noticing the small, purple petal clinging to his shirt. He turned to Virgil, still beaming. “Aww shucks, thanks a bunch, Anxiety!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How pathetic. He didn’t even know his name yet and he’d already fallen for him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>From there, Patton’s boundless admiration (read: hopeless crush) for the other side only grew with each passing day he spent with him. He found out little things about Virgil, things as trivial as likes and dislikes, wants and fears. Unsurprisingly, Virgil was afraid of a lot, but he wanted a lot too. He wanted things he never told the others. A good life for Thomas, a life for Thomas where he didn’t feel like Virgil was his burden to bear. He wanted what was best for everyone, and he wanted to feel like another cog in the machine, not like the break in a circuit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton wanted Virgil to love him. His heart filled with guilt at the thought, but it didn’t make it any less true. He wanted Virgil to hold him in his arms and kiss him on the forehead and squeeze him tightly when he felt sad, he wanted Virgil to wake up to breakfast in bed, to smile at him while still blinking through sleep and to speak softly in that same gravelly voice he heard so infrequently. He wanted Virgil to relax around him, to let down those walls for even just a second and really truly smile. He wanted Virgil to feel like he had a home, at least even just with him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was throwing up lilac. The flowers were small and just barely purple, nowhere near the rich tones that he had come to associate with Virgil. The flowers were small and dainty and easily broken. The only problem was the sheer number of them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At first it hadn’t been so bad. He’d been confused, sure, but it wasn’t like this was the first strange thing to happen in the mindscape. He was sure it would resolve itself eventually. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A petal here, two or three free floating flowers there. His throat felt odd during the days he threw up petals, a bit tingly and a little raw. He coughed a bit more than on average. His nose was a bit sniffly (stupid pollen allergy). Nothing he couldn’t handle. No one wants to be coughing up flowers but as far as situations go, his could have been worse. He remembered a time that Roman accidentally cursed himself to speak only in limericks. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago that it got really bad. He’d seen Virgil there, just sitting at the table, drinking his usual coffee, black and edgy like his soul, and something had stirred in Patton’s chest. Virgil had greeted him with a nearly blinding grin and a tiny “Hey, Pat,” and Patton could practically feel his heart leap out of his chest. The next moment he was doubled over as though he was trying to hack up a lung. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil, ever the worrywort, had gasped, practically appearing at his side. Worry had clouded his features, and his hands had skated over Patton nervously, like he wanted to help him but couldn’t. “Patton!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton could feel something in his throat, something a lot more worrisome than the usual petal or two, something that cut off his breathing and made him feel like he was drowning. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want water? Or should I find Logan? He’ll know what to do. Are you sick? Can we even get sick? What should I do to help?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton waved him off, knowing he had to get away from Virgil </span>
  <em>
    <span>now. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A coppery taste was already pooling in his mouth, and alarm bells were ringing in his skull. “Mmh-fine,” he managed to get out, still choking on nothing. “It’s fine.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sank out as quickly as possible, leaving Virgil’s anxious form behind him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The moment he collapsed on his bed he threw it up. The flowers tickled the roof of his mouth, and his jaw ached as he felt them leave his body. His eyes widened behind his circular frames as he looked over the bloody mess on his bed. Clumps of lilac, stuck together and dripping with red, sat upon his baby blue bedspread. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He felt like he was going to be sick. But that didn’t make any sense, he was already sick. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A knock on the door startled him. “Who is it?” Patton jumped as he called it out, sounding a bit more accusatory than he usually would. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a moment of silence. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Patton?” Logan’s voice rang from the other side of the door. “Are you alright in there?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t come in!” Patton squeaked, looking around his cluttered room frantically for a place to hide the bloody flowers. He scooped them up in his arms, ignoring the way the blood clung to his bare skin, and threw them in the corner before piling some spare stuffed animals on top of them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Patton, Virgil expressed his concern to me over your wellbeing, if you don’t mind I would like to evaluate what he appeared to believe was an issue.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope! No issues here! I’m fine, thanks!” Patton replied, voice high and sugary sweet with lies. He glanced in his mirror and paled even further. His already clammy and white face had dark circles under his eyes, and blood not only stained his teeth and lips, but covered his arms. His bedspread still sported a sizable blot of red as well. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan sighed. “Patton, I do not need to be Janus to spot a lie that poorly constructed. Virgil expressed an overly anxious response to whatever occurred in the kitchen and I would like to check and make sure that whatever he felt was not overstated.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton pursed his lips. Logan was right, and if he kept that up another certain side would probably be popping their head in to see what the actual heck it was that Patton felt such a strong need to lie about. “I’m going to be okay!” he said instead, not technically a lie because the future was constantly in motion, right? And who knows, maybe he was going to be okay. (Deep down he knew he wasn’t going to be okay.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was another hesitation, most likely due to Logan weighing his worries over Virgil’s mood against his hope to escape speaking over a matter with Patton that might lead to a discussion of </span>
  <em>
    <span>feelings. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Finally, he responded. “I’m coming in.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Patton practically shrieked, hurling a throw pillow over the blood seeping through his bed cover. “No, don’t!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But Logan had forced the door open. Patton froze, and then Logan froze, the other boy’s eyes widening significantly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey there kiddo,” Patton tried, going for a smile but remembering the blood still staining his teeth. “What’s crackalackin?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan took one step towards him, then another. He raised a hand to Patton’s shirt and pulled a stray petal from where it was caught on his sleeve. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, how did that get there?” Patton said, examining the little purple petal as his chest sank even further. “Weird!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan surveyed his room with eagle eyes, finally zeroing in on the pile of stuffed animals in Patton’s corner, the pile that hadn’t been there when he’d dropped by last night for their weekly baby animal documentary. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What? What is it?” Patton moved to step in front of his friend, but Logan bodied past him with more strength that Patton had remembered his friend possessing. He threw the stuffed animals out of the way haphazardly, paling as he laid eyes on the small clump of lilacs on the floor, still bloody. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Patton’s blood ran cold.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After a long moment, Logan finally turned to face him. “This shouldn’t be happening,” he said very quietly. That was how you knew he was serious. Logan didn’t take that tone unless something was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We shouldn’t be happening, if you think about it!” Was the only thing Patton could think of to say in response, shrugging a lot more cheerfully than he probably should have, considering the situation. He gestured to himself. “Fun loving father figment, remember?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan shook his head, though not in response to Patton’s question. He gestured at the flowers on the ground, and Patton felt his eyes drawn to them naturally. He winced away from them. “Not that. This.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>is, Logan.” Patton could feel tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He gestured to the broken petals too, and then to himself. “What’s happening to me?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-” Logan paused. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You have all the answers, you always do! So tell me, what’s happening to me?” Patton whispered, voice breaking on the last syllable. “Why do I feel like this?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan forced out the words like they pained him. “My best guess is that these flowers appear to be… a natural reaction that your body has to a strong emotion, perhaps in the romantic sense. The flowers most likely correlate with your deep seeded affection for another, such as is shown with the fictional Hanahaki disease.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton let out a mix between a sniffle and a laugh. “Deep seeded. Was that a pun, Lo?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan’s head twitched involuntarily to the side, an irked expression crossing his face. “What? No. Patton, this is serious.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And just like that, Patton was thrown back into the present, back into reality. “Am I gonna die?” he stage-whispered, his own face contorting into an expression of horror. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I don’t think so.” Logan frowned. “Seeing as we do not exist, we cannot die.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened to ‘I think, therefore I am’?” Patton wondered. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan just shook his head. “Thomas thinks, we are merely the vessels for those thoughts. Trust me Patton, we shall only pass when Thomas does. That much I have been sure of for a long while.” There was a bitter edge to his voice, and Logan cast his eyes from Patton, instead focusing on the bloodied mess staining his carpet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was something there, something that Patton should touch on but didn’t have the strength to right now. He made a mental note to check up on Logan later. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well that’s a relief I guess,” Patton replied, biting his lower lip. “I think.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan just sighed, a sad little noise with all other things considered. “It is to my belief that unless you truly believe that Virgil returns your feelings, you will continue to suffer from the effects of this fictional disease.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Virgil? What?” Patton spluttered, which hurt his throat a little, but was nothing compared to the rush of embarrassment he suddenly felt. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan tilted his head at the outburst. “I apologize, that was presumptuous of me. I am correct though, am I not?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He frowned, but there was no malice behind it. “Sometimes you’re a little too good at reading me.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Logan replied, preening and looking a little pleased, “It is my job.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton chuckled, which quickly turned into a frown. “You can’t tell him, Logan, please. He can’t know.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?” Logan looked confused. “If the solution to your problem is as simple as explaining your situation to him and affirming that your feelings are reciprocated, then why would you not attempt it? That makes no logical sense.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, he can’t know!” Patton bit his lip again, drawing new blood. “I could ruin everything and he would feel just </span>
  <em>
    <span>awful, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I know he would, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>he can’t know, please, Logan.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan frowned right back at him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Over the next couple of weeks, Patton took to avoiding Virgil, with mixed results. Sometimes, his cough receded to the point where it was barely noticeable and Patton would dare to hope, but it would always return full force, sending Patton to his knees as he vomited up flower after flower. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil had gotten grumpier and suspicious as well. Patton couldn’t help but notice the way his brows furrowed around him now, or the way he refused eye contact for more than a couple of seconds. He tried to keep their conversations clipped, short. His heart screamed at him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s for his own good, it’s for his own good, it’s for his own-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Pat.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil was at his door, leaning slightly against the frame. His hair was in his eyes as usual, and the dark circles under his eyes had lessened slightly, a sign that he had been sleeping more. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, you spooked me there, Virgil!” Patton laughed a jittery laugh as he looked up from the crossword puzzle he had been staring at. He’d initially sat down with the intention of getting it done, but he’d just ended up staring at the blank page as his thoughts spiraled. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil frowned at that. “Sorry,” he replied softly. He was blocking the doorway, unintentionally, but Patton still felt his chest constrict a little. It looked like he would be having this conversation with Virgil whether he wanted to or not. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s no biggie,” he brushed it off. “Anything I can help you with there?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil nodded slowly. “You’ve been avoiding me.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t accusatory, and it wasn’t distraught. In fact, it was simply presented as a statement, a fact void of emotion. There was nothing more to it. Patton </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>been avoiding him, and now Virgil wanted to know why. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton’s heartbeat began to pick up. He couldn’t tell Virgil, couldn’t tell him about the repressed feelings and the stolen glances. He couldn’t chain Virgil to him, tell him ‘date me or die,’ couldn’t force him into a choice that he never wanted in the first place. Who would that make him? It was so unfair, everything about it was so unfair. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He wouldn’t do that to him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey there, overthinking is my job,” Virgil reminded him softly, and Patton realized that the silence that had stretched between them seemed infinite. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have,” Patton whispered back, nodding. “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t help the tears that jumped to his eyes any more than he could help the flowers that jumped to his throat. “It’s not you, it’s-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I swear to all that is good and holy, Pat, if you say ‘it’s not you it’s me’ I might literally lose my shit.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Language,” Patton sniffled out, and Virgil smirked in response, the corners of his lips quirking up in such a Virgil reaction that it hurt to watch. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh I’m so in love with this man. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He dug his fingers into his bedsheets and tried to force the flowers back down. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re just as bad as the rest of us after a couple of rounds of Mario Kart,” Virgil replied. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What can I say? It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>wheely </span>
  </em>
  <span>frustrating,” Patton replied, acting more on instinct than anything else. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil let out a short bark of a laugh. The tension in the air eased up slightly. “You did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>just make that pun while I’m confessing to you,” he replied. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I did too-” Patton’s heart stopped. “What.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil’s eyes widened. “Fuck.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Patton repeated, incredulous. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Virgil let out a low groan, closing his eyes and letting his head hit the back of the doorframe. “Wow.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” Patton asked him, desperate. He could feel hope welling up inside of him, an ugly thing, something he didn’t want any part of.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, not making eye contact. “I was worried I’d finally scared you off by being too angsty and sarcastic, and…” Virgil cast his eyes to the ceiling, speaking in a way that was so not Virgil but made Patton’s heart do somersaults, “and I thought that even if I had messed up everything else I could at least do one thing right and tell you how I feel about you, but now I even managed to mess this up and you’re just standing there about to cry and all I wanted to do was tell you how much you mean to me!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sounded exasperated with himself. Patton had to stifle his small grin. Now that sounded more like Virgil. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil was now doing his very best impression of a tomato. “Oh for the love of-” He strode forward, grabbing Patton’s wrist and yanking the other boy closer to him. He was taller than Patton, but only by a couple of inches. “I’m about to kiss you, so you’d better tell me if you don’t want that because I have a limited window of confidence and I’m very close to spending it all up,” he warned Patton. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton could feel his own eyes widen almost comically. “Virgil,” he whispered, barely opening his lips, and then the other boy was leaning down and whatever else he could have said, maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes, </span>
  </em>
  <span>or </span>
  <em>
    <span>please, </span>
  </em>
  <span>or </span>
  <em>
    <span>this is exactly what I need to stop vomiting up flowers! </span>
  </em>
  <span>was swallowed by Virgil’s lips on his own. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Neither of them were great at it, Virgil lost his confidence as quickly as he found it and Patton had literally never kissed anyone before, but it was so undeniably perfect just because it was Virgil that he couldn’t find it in his heart to care. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t feel the moment that the flowers left, he just knew in his heart that they were no longer there. The weight and worry they carried within him dissipated slowly as he kept Virgil’s lips against his own, still disbelieving but getting better at believing. Virgil made a tiny sound of happiness and Patton knew that he would never cough up another blossom again as long as he lived. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When they finally parted, Patton knew he was flushed and red and Virgil gave him a grin that was probably supposed to be cocky but came off as more bashful, his face equally colored. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah,” Virgil whispered, sounding unsure of himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Message received,” Patton just whispered, and kissed him again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He, Logan, and Virgil were all sitting on the couch in the commons, watching some space themed documentary. Watching was a loose term, it more amounted to Logan infodumping over the actual documentary, Patton doing his best to name all of the stars nice, funny names, and Virgil trying his hardest to flick popcorn bits up into the air and catch them in his mouth. Occasionally, they bounced off of Patton’s forehead, as he was curled under one of Virgil’s arms. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan paused what he was saying as Patton cheered. Virgil had just managed to catch one of the pieces, and Patton was nothing if not endlessly supportive. He would never admit it, but he thought the two of them were frankly adorable and he was so glad that they’d worked everything out. In fact, he was so glad that they’d worked everything out that he decided to voice his opinion on the subject. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I really am quite glad that you and Virgil managed to work everything out, Patton,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton beamed at his friend, before turning his blinding smile to his boyfriend. “Me too,” he admitted softly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Besides,” Logan continued, “On a similar note, I imagine that you are quite relieved to no longer be regurgitating flowers. This must have been quite an acceptable trade for you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Silence greeted his words. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan turned to look back at Patton. The other boy had a slightly pained expression on his face. “You are no longer regurgitating flowers, correct?” he asked him. Patton sunk a little further into the couch below Virgil’s arm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span>Virgil’s voice was loud and incredulous. “He</span>
  <em>
    <span> WHAT.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you guys enjoyed my little end of chapter bonus! The length of this one got a little out of hand but I tried to balance the angst and all that with a bit of humor lol. Anywho, fun fact, Lilac symbolizes confidence!! That was pretty influential on this work. </p>
<p>Next chapter is probably Logince? Prinxiety? We'll see.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Virgil (Prinxiety)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Virgil: No I don't like Roman don't be ridiculous</p>
<p>Flowers, ready to beat the shit out of his insides: oh rlly :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Roman was so extra that Virgil could barely stand it. Everything about him just reeked of extra. His clothing? Extra. His room? Extra. His choice to belt show tunes at three am on a weeknight? Unbelievably extra. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil had had it up to </span>
  <em>
    <span>here </span>
  </em>
  <span>with the extra. Seriously. He was very close to losing his shit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stupid Roman with his stupid floppy hair and his stupid princely body and his stupid kissable lips. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait a second. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil froze as the realization hit him like a brick. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh fuck. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He could feel his heartbeat increasing as the conclusion settled down and made itself at home in his head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Him of all people? Really?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Correction: Virgil was currently losing his shit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How did I not notice this, Logan?” he was lamenting, head in his hands as he sat on the edge of Logan’s navy blue bedspread. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan barely looked up from his work. Virgil liked that about him most days, but right now it only added to his heightened anxiety. “Well, I suppose that you could be going through the five stages of grief. First, you were in denial, and now you do appear quite…” he gestured vaguely at Virgil’s form, “angry.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil made a sound like a dying cat, long and mournful. “I absolutely refuse to like that pompous asshole! You literally can’t make me!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am well aware that I cannot literally alter your feelings towards Roman, Virgil,” Logan replied, rolling his eyes and straightening his glasses. “Your feelings are your business. I assure you, I want no part of them.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Lo,” Virgil grumbled, frowning. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Me neither, honestly. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If anger was only the second phase, it sure was taking its sweet time getting over with. Virgil was angry all the time. He was angry when he saw Roman, he was angry when Roman didn’t even bother to show up. He was angry when he heard Roman’s name in passing, and he was angry about the looks Logan kept giving him thanks to his stupid crush on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Roman.</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>And when the flowers came, he was just as angry about that. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Because the flowers were so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so very extra. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Of course they were extra. Roman himself was extra, so of course his flowers would be extra. Big, red roses. He was practically hacking up dozens of them within a day of their appearance. Virgil didn’t even get a warning either. There was no light coughing and couple of petals falling from his lips, he went straight to throwing up full blown flowers. Of fucking course he did, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>Roman he was talking about. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He skipped confusion over the red roses immediately, and went straight to irritation. How could he not? No one wanted to cough up flowers due to </span>
  <em>
    <span>unrequited crushes.</span>
  </em>
  <span> (Virgil refused to call it love because it sure as hell </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t.</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They were quite pretty, all other things considered. Once you got past the blood dripping from the stems and the slightly rumpled petals, the roses could even be considered beautiful. If Virgil was a little bit more self deprecating and just a tad more dedicated to his usual macabre aesthetic, he might have even kept some in a vase. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But that would have reminded him of Roman, and then he would be spiraling again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>his type, which is exactly why he clicked with him so well. Virgil had hated him from the moment he’d laid eyes on the other side, with his lavish clothing choice and extravagant gestures and generally over the top manner of speaking. Virgil hated it… and Virgil respected it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It took a lot to put one hundred percent of yourself into anything you do, to string yourself out on that line or walk onto that shooting range with that target taped to your chest. ‘Knock me down,’ it practically begs, ‘tell me what’s wrong with my work.’ Roman did that every chance he got, and that was something that Virgil couldn’t help but respect. After all, he’d never do that himself, not in a million years. But Roman made it look effortless. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He worried at his bottom lip, the taste of copper flooding his mouth once more as he drew blood. There weren’t any bargains he would be able to possibly make to improve his situation, and that made him anxious, Then again, what didn’t? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The flowers hurt like hell. Their thorns tore at his throat and their petals clogged his airways. Why him? Why did he have to be fucked up enough that even his emotions wanted to kill him? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t until he’d long since given up on feeling remotely human again that anything changed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been in the mindscape’s shared kitchen, doing his best to expel the flowers from his body. Virgil retched a final time, feeling the slightly sticky stems roll off his tongue, thorns nicking him one more time on the way out. He’d been hacking up flowers all morning, the unfortunate result of one too-long lingering look from the princely side. </span>
  <span></span>
    <br/>
  
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He didn’t have it in himself to care anymore. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil heaved out a rattling breath as he heard the flower hit the table, a slightly wet sound that filled him to the brim with hatred, or at least it would if he had felt much of anything right now. There wasn’t really a point to feeling bad about the flowers, it wouldn’t stop them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sure, he could shed tears over it and beat himself up over it now but that wouldn’t keep them inside of him next time he saw Roman flash that cocky half smile at him or watched as the princely figure out the finishing touches on a script, his entire face lighting up in that way that it only would when he thought something of his was really truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>good. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It wouldn’t stop him from wanting to be with the other side, to watch over him through his ups and downs and everything in between. It wouldn’t stop his useless pining and the denial thereove. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was stagnant, no matter how bad the flowers were. So what was the point in feeling anything?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sight of Roman’s face sparked that memory. The other side stood in one of the two kitchen doorways, eyes flicking between Virgil’s face and the flowers on the table, his soft features twisted with horror. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Roman. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil’s mind went blank. For a good moment, neither of them moved. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Self consciously, he wiped the last of the blood from the corners of his lips, pulling his mouth down into his signature grumpy frown. “How long have you been standing there?” he asked the other side, not quite as defensive as he would have hoped to come off. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman’s chocolate eyes now flicked up to meet his own, flashing with the pain he so clearly shared for his friend. Virgil could feel his stomach tug as he looked into those eyes, and he forced himself to focus. “Long enough,” Roman responded. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was another silence between the two of them. Roman looked helpless, helpless and horrified. If Virgil didn’t know better, he would have thought the other side wished to go to him, to comfort him. Roman’s eyes looked so sad, so scared, so confused. He banished those thoughts as soon as he had them. He couldn’t afford to be thinking like that, not with roses so close to choking him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He decided to break that silence. “God, do you wanna be any more dramatic about it, Princey?” he growled out, his voice a little off in the way that only coughing up massive amounts of greenery can make it, hurriedly breaking his eye contact with Roman. It wouldn’t do him any good to look back, only forward. He just had to focus on making it through the day. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Virgil…” Roman whispered, seemingly at a loss for words. Well that was a first. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever.” Virgil grabbed his fistful of roses off their cool marble counter, wincing at the blood splatter still there. Their thorns bit into his fingers. He didn’t care. “If you don’t have anything to say, I’m out of here. Didn’t mean to interrupt your afternoon.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he was leaving, Roman called out to him again, sounding broken and confused. “Virgil, you’re hurting.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He just paused in the other doorway, cocking his head to the side as he thought it over. An unfeeling smile stretched across his face. He tasted copper. “Yeah, well what else is new,” he huffed in response, and kept going. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew that he couldn’t turn back, not if that meant having to look at Roman’s face again, clouded with hurt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hurt that you caused, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his own brain reminded him snidely. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He honestly hadn’t expected Roman to follow him after that. That was his mistake. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been in his room, on his bed, staring at his cracked white ceiling. There had been water damage a couple of years ago, and he’d never had it in him to deal with it. It was a little bit messed up, just like him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, I could fix that for you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil looked up, surprised. Roman stood in his doorway, the soft glow of the hall light barely illuminating his features. The golden accents on his shoulders glimmered slightly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman ducked his head bashfully as Virgil looked at him. “The ceiling, I mean. I could fix it.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil shrugged, though not unkindly. “Why bother?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s already broken. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I’m your friend, Virgil,” Roman said, with a strange expression on his face. Virgil couldn’t quite place it. “Even with as angsty as you are, I still consider us the closest of comrades-” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we, though?” Virgil’s tone was a bit more biting than he had intended. Roman flinched slightly and he felt the guilt begin to trickle through him. “Are we really friends?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“O-of course.” Roman didn’t seem sure. He bit his lip. “Virgil, I know I may have said some harsh words to you in the past, but I had hoped that we could move past that, hoped that we </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>moved past that.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil stared at him, now sitting up on his bed. He crossed his legs and propped himself up on his hands. Roman’s jaw was set, he was going to have this conversation, whether or not Virgil actually wanted to be a part of it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine, time to fight dirty.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “How can we move past that if you never mean it when you tell me sorry?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman’s concerned face turned irritated for a moment. Good, Virgil could deal with irritated. “How many times do I have to apologize to you before you get it through your head that I’m trying to change?” he snapped back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You already have. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Virgil couldn’t stop the small frown from forming on his face. His intention was to scare Roman away so he could continue to live in peaceful, ignorant bliss, not distress him. “Well, Princey” he drawled, pursing his lips, “have you ever considered that maybe the one who needs to change isn’t you, it’s me?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman looked flabbergasted. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil tutted, shaking his head back and forth. “Not everything is about you, Roman…” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But this is,” Roman replied stubbornly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can assure you-” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’m sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil paused. “Wait, why are you still sorry?” he asked, squinting at Roman from underneath his bangs. “I literally just told you that I was the problem. Me. Like I always am.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman shook his head. “Not everything is about you, Virgil,” he replied, in a gentle mockery of the anxious side’s earlier words. “And I’m sorry that you don’t feel like you can talk to me when something is wrong.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing’s wrong.” Virgil hesitated, and Roman raised an eyebrow at him, looking slightly amused. “No, nothing is wrong,” he restated, a bit more forcefully. “I could talk to you if I wanted to, but nothing is wrong.” It didn’t escape him how much he sounded like a petulant child . </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well if you say so,” Roman replied. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t be sorry!” Virgil protested angrily. “You don’t get to be sorry! You didn’t do anything wrong! I just made that perfectly clear and you can’t even get </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>through your dumb, thick skull!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well I apologize that you feel that way about me and my skull,” Roman replied, just as stubborn as before. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What did I literally just say?” Virgil growled out at him. “You don’t need to apologize for any of that, you haven’t done anything.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman shrugged at him. “Still sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil might as well have been howling and tearing his hair out. “God, you are so </span>
  <em>
    <span>irritating!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he hissed out, watching Roman cross his arms and send an amused expression his way. “You were so uppity and holier than thou when we met which just made it </span>
  <em>
    <span>so very easy</span>
  </em>
  <span> to hate you, but then you had to go and muddle everything up with your newfound charming and likable personality and willingness to change and accept people for who they are and now I fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>like you-” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Roman smirked, but Virgil just kept going, “and you’re just the same as you were- stubborn and irritating! You don’t even listen to me! I don’t understand how you can be so cute and still piss me off so very much!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil was stopped by probably the only thing that could have shut him up at that moment; the feeling of Roman’s lips on his own. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re adorable when you’re angry,” Roman whispered into his mouth, and Virgil just grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a string of curse words and kissed him back, determined to wipe that smirk off of Roman’s face. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it was there. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate you,” he muttered when the two of them parted, resting their foreheads together. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you-” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah that totally explains why you were holding onto me like I was your lifeline the entire time I was kissing you,” Roman said with a nod and another one of his infuriating smirks. “Right, that makes total sense.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil looked up at him, flushing unbearably. “Shut up or I’ll shut you up.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” Roman grinned cockily at him, biting his lip. “And how exactly would you-?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil shoved him off of the bed. Roman fell to the floor with a very undignified squeal, alarm crossing his features as the wind was knocked out of him. Virgil just smirked at him, blowing him a kiss. “Like that, Princey.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman let out a huff of his own, despite the smile already creeping at the corners of his lips and the slightly pleased flush of his cheeks. “Then the feeling is mutual, Emo Nightmare. I hate you as well.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right. Glad we’re on the same page.” Virgil nodded, looking down on Roman. After a beat of silence, he couldn’t help but let out a small snicker. His heart felt lighter than it had in a long while. “Here,” Virgil offered, holding out his hand to the other side. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman’s face lit up in response. “Why thank you, my good sir,” he replied, taking Virgil’s hand and tugging. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of Roman using Virgil as leverage to get back up and onto the bed again, as he had intended, this motion sent Virgil crashing onto the floor as well, or more accurately, onto Roman’s chest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit!” Virgil gasped, just as Roman went, “Oof!” and the wind was knocked out of him for the second time that evening. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil stared at Roman. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman stared at Virgil. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then the two of them burst into laughter, the kind of laughter that made your sides hurt and your jaw ache. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you thought you could actually pull me back up from the floor,” Roman wheezed out between giggles, wiping a tear from his eye. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up!” Virgil replied, but he was grinning just as widely as Roman, shoulders shaking with laughter. “You went along with it, you dork!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m your dork now, so you’re stuck with me,” Roman shot right back at him, which only widened Virgil’s grin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I dunno, you’re pretty high maintenance,” he replied, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Seems like a lot of work…” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman pouted beneath him, letting out another one of his annoyed huffing noises, which, like everything else about him, was absolutely adorable. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just don’t see the benefits,” Virgil continued with a small shrug. “Meh.” And then he was being pulled into another one of Roman’s kisses, sweet and slow and filled with all of the passion and emotion that the other side could push into it. It was dizzying. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the two of them broke apart, they were both flushed. “How’s that for a benefit?” Roman asked him, even after everything, still having the audacity to give Virgil another of his cocky smiles. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil found himself at a bit of a loss for a snarky response to that. “Sure, yeah,” he replied numbly, nodding a little. “That works for me.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Roman replied with a happy hum, pulling him close to his chest and holding him there. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil could hear Roman’s heartbeat from where he was, and he closed his eyes and listened to the rhythmic beating as they lapsed once more into silence. Usually, there was a tenseness to their silences, like the calm before a storm, but now, all that Virgil felt was happy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And Virgil?” Roman asked him quietly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?” he replied. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Next time, just tell me that you’re so head over heels for me you can’t help but throw up flowers.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil let out an angry hum in response. “There isn’t going to be a next time,” he replied. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” Roman continued, “red roses are the universal symbol for love… Very romantic, Hot Topic.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Watch me put Logan in every single chapter</p>
<p>Next is most likely Janus! Thanks so much for reading! :)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Guys blue thistle is actually so pretty</p><p>Hope you're having a great day/night/whatever! :D</p></blockquote></div></div>
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